Chapter 1 - The First Strike
The modern living room echoed with a sharp, sickening thud as Elena’s knees hit the thick beige carpet. Her brown ponytail whipped around her shoulders, catching the pale afternoon light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Standing directly above her, Clara tightened her fingers in Elena’s hair, her long dark hair falling forward like a curtain of judgment. Clara’s maroon turtleneck sweater stretched tight across her chest as she exerted her dominance, her face twisted in an ugly, unforgiving mask of pure resentment.
"What you get, she made me do it," Clara spat out, her voice dripping with venom and misplaced vindication.
Elena winced, her green knit top bunching up awkwardly as she tried to cushion her pregnant belly with her hands. Her brown skirt twisted around her thighs, and her brown boots scraped helplessly against the fibers of the rug. A sharp, searing pain shot through her lower abdomen, stealing the breath right out of her lungs. She couldn't form words; the sheer shock of the betrayal paralyzed her vocal cords.
Mark rushed across the hardwood floor, his grey jacket flapping around his hips. He dropped heavily to his knees beside his fallen wife, his short dark hair disheveled, panic radiating from every pore of his face. He pressed trembling fingers to Elena’s neck, searching frantically for a steady pulse, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and furious disbelief.
"She's not moving," Mark said urgently, his voice cracking as he looked up at Clara with burning hatred.
Clara didn't flinch. She simply crossed her arms over her maroon sweater, her posture rigid, her expression completely detached from the wreckage she had just caused.
Mark didn't waste another second arguing. He yanked his smartphone from his front pocket, his thumb moving in a blur as he tapped the screen to dial 911. His breathing came in ragged, shallow gasps.
"I need an ambulance," Mark spoke frantically into the speaker, gesturing wildly toward Clara while keeping one hand protectively over Elena's shivering frame. "My sister-in-law just assaulted my pregnant wife, I want to report this to the police."
Clara smirked, leaning slightly against the back of the nearby sofa.
"Go ahead, call the police, call whatever tell you want," Clara whispered coldly, her eyes locking onto Mark with chilling confidence. "No one is going to believe you."
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As the dispatcher’s tinny voice began asking for the address through the phone speaker, Mark noticed a strange flash of light reflecting off the coffee table, revealing a hidden camera lens pointed directly at them.
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